


Ray of Light

by Icecat62



Category: due South
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Humor, Major character death - Freeform, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 10:44:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2345555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icecat62/pseuds/Icecat62
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fraser returns to Chicago a bit too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ray of Light

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to EedSuitsYou@yahoogroups.com - 01/09/2004.  
> This fic came about from the RSY OBX outing well over a year ago. It's a "death" fic. For those of you who know me, you're gasping in surprise. Yes, I abhor death fics, so you can bet your sweet ass that this is an ultimate AU and has no place in my Due South world. It's for Kali. An extremely belated birthday gift. Happy Birthday Kali and I hope you like it. :)

Standing by the window, she watched the planes as they taxied in and out. Looking at her watch, then at the flight chart, she sighed. The flight wasn't late; it was just her nerves making her fidget.

Pulling at the bracelet on her wrist, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath before turning to walk down the hall to the bathroom. She'd done this several times in the past hour. Maybe if she hadn't been so eager to see him; she wouldn't have arrived so early.

Standing in front of the mirror, she checked her appearance. She hadn't changed in some ways, but boy had she changed in others. She'd let her hair grow long again. The mass of dark curls hung past her shoulders. Sure it was a pain braiding and pinning it up every morning, but she felt the need to look more feminine when off duty.

Taking a tube of lipstick out, she applied it. As she went to put it away, she looked at the color. Gone were the brilliant reds and shiny glosses. Now she wore muted pinks, barely any color at all to really call it lipstick.

Looking at her face, she angled her head back and forth. She didn't look like someone who was thirty-six. All her friends said she could pass for someone in their late twenty's.

With a huff she turned away from the mirror and walked back into the hall. Twenty-smunty! She wanted to be a carefree teenager again. Hell, she'd settle for being twenty-one or twenty-two. She was too young to be thirty-six!

She stood by the window again and crossed her arms, nervously tapping a foot. He'd be here soon. She couldn't believe it had been five years since she had last seen him. Five long, lonely years. She would have added boring to the list, but to be honest with herself, she couldn't say that.

When he had left, something inside of her had changed. She'd matured. With a snort, she chastised herself. She hadn't matured she'd given up a dream. If she couldn't have him, she'd make her job her life. No one could say that she was an airhead any more, not after she had graduated from the academy and been working her beat for three years. She was the one they could count on to work overtime. They knew better than to ask her to work the holiday shifts she wasn't scheduled for though. Family was still a top priority in her life, just not a family of her own.

With another sigh she watched a plane come in for a landing. She'd given up on the idea of ever having her own children. After he had left she swore she'd never let her heart wrap itself around another person again. She'd never let herself love someone the way she had loved him. It had hurt too much. The empty hollow ache that he had left in her soul was still there. Five years had gone by and she still wasn't over the bastard.

The speaker overhead crackled to life.

"Flight 914, Air Canada has now landed."

She nervously tucked the t-shirt she wore into worn out jeans, wishing she had a nice shirt and a skirt on instead, but she hadn't had much time between leaving work and her wanting to rush to the airport. Not that he would notice or for that fact, care. That had been the problem with their 'relationship'. There never really had been one to begin with. It had been all one sided. She loved him, but he could have cared less. Well...he had admitted that he cared about her, but it turned out not enough for him to stay.

Walking closer to the security desk, she adjusted the leather jacket she wore, hoping the shoulder holster didn't show. She would have hated to have to flash her badge right now. Not when 'he' was coming. It would have looked like she was showing off or something, trying to get his attention like she had before, but this time it wouldn't be her body, it would be a tool of the trade. Something to prove that they had more in common than their sexual desires.

She froze as she saw him. His stride was confident, his posture still ramrod straight. The blue uniform he wore fit his trim figure like a glove. She found she was holding her breath. Damn the man, he hadn't aged a bit. If anything, he looked exactly as he had the first time she had met him all those years ago.

As his eyes locked with hers, he made a direct beeline to her. As he came to stand before her, she tried smiling, but failed miserably. Her vision blurred and before she knew it, she was crying. When he bent down to hug her, she clung to him like he was her only hope...the only reason for living.

Francesca was dimly aware of Fraser's hands caressing her back, comforting her. All she knew was he was finally here. Someone else could be the strong one. Someone else could take care of things. Someone could take care of her.

When he pulled slowly away, he reached into his jacket and withdrew a pristine white handkerchief. Handing it to her, he tried to smile, but it faltered and disappeared. Replacing it was the same tired, sad look that she wore.

"How are you Francesca? I mean...how have...are you doing well?"

She could see that he was uneasy, but it wasn't for all the old reasons.

"I'm doin' okay. Okay as anyone can be I mean. You know."

He nodded his head in agreement and indicated with a slight wave of his hand that they should go.

They walked sided by side, close enough to touch, but not touching. Making their way to the luggage turnstile, they waited amongst the crowd gathered around the conveyor belt. It wasn't long when she spotted Fraser's bag.

"I see you're still carryin' that old backpack."

That drew a small smile from him.

"I don't see how you can do it. How can you fit everything in there?"

"I pack only the essentials."

Her brow crinkled in confusion.

"Speaking of essentials, why're you wearing your uniform? You're not on duty. Are you?"

Her eyes narrowed as she eyed one of the sleeves. Sergeant's stripes? Ray hadn't said anything about Fraser getting a promotion.

Reaching down, Fraser snagged the large pack from the belt. He remained silent for a moment. Hefting it over his shoulders, he turned to Francesca and frowned slightly.

"I'm technically on duty. I hope it's not an inconvience, but could we stop at the Consulate for a few minutes?"

"Uh...yeah, it's okay. Ma knows there are delays, so she kinda' expects us to be late anyway."

**********

Driving down the highway, Francesca tried to think of some small talk, but her mind drew a blank. All she could think was the reason why Fraser was here and when she thought of that, she could feel herself beginning to crumble.

Snapping the radio on, she pushed the buttons until she found a pop station. Mindless music, that's what she needed. She wanted to be numb. She wanted to forget. Judging by Fraser's silence, he must have felt the same.

Pulling up to the Consulate, she was prepared to sit in the car and wait, but to her surprise Fraser asked her to come in. She was further shocked when he produced a key and unlocked the door.

Entering the building, she looked around in curiosity. In all the years that Fraser had been in Chicago, she had never been to one of the Consulate buildings. She had always wondered what it had looked like. It was nothing like the 27th Precinct. It was all polish, beautiful furniture and paintings.

Walking down the large open hall, Fraser finally stopped at an impressive doublewide set of oak doors. Taking another key out, he unlocked them and gestured for her to go in.

Francesca watched Fraser as he wordlessly moved about the office. Pulling some files, he sat at a humongous oak desk. She would have given anything to have a desk like that to work at instead of the crummy metal one she had.

He jotted down some notes in the file, then began checking messages on the phone which seemed a bit odd. Maybe he had a phone service that forwarded his messages here instead of to the outpost he was stationed at in Canada.

Once he was done whatever he was doing, he ushered her out of the building and back to the car. Again they drove in silence and she began to get worried. She knew he needed to talk about it. Without thinking, she turned down a side street and headed toward the church.

Biting her lip to keep from crying, she took a deep breath as she took a sideways glance at him. His face had paled and his eyes seemed to glaze over as he stared at the approaching building. Until now he could pretend this wasn't real, but what she was about to do would leave no room for a make believe world where everything was honkey-dorey.

Parking the car, she got out and slowly made her way to the passenger side door and stood patiently waiting for Fraser to get out of the vehicle. When he finally opened the door and stepped out, she knew exactly what he was feeling.

Holding a hand out to him, he surprised her again by immediately clasping it. His grip was tight and his hand was like ice and it chilled her heart.

Wordlessly they made their way into the church. As they walked down the isle, she looked up to the choir box, remembering a time when life was somewhat happier. A time when she didn't feel the weight of the world on her shoulders. Luckily Father Behan wasn't present. She didn't want to hear his words right now. All they did was magnify what was happening, not bring relief or solace.

Fraser's steps slowed as they neared the alter area. When he stopped walking altogether, she knew she had to take control again, at least for the moment.

"I know you don't want to see him like this. Believe me, I don't like it either, but..."

Taking a deep breath, she tugged at his hand, relieved when they slowly made their way forward again. When they stopped, she couldn't stop the tears that she'd been holding back. She tightened her hold on Fraser's hand, trying to draw strength from his presence. She could do this. They both could.

"Stan...he's taking this real hard. He was there you know."

"Stan?"

Swiping a hand across her face, Francesca gave a mirthless laugh.

"Ray. He said he doesn't want to be called Ray anymore. It hurts too much."

Fraser nodded his head in understanding. Slowly releasing his grip on her hand, he took the final step to the open casket; still not believing it was real. After all they had done...after all they had been through...how could something like this have happened?

Reaching a hand out, he reached down to clasp the cold lifeless hand of his friend...his brother...Raymond Vecchio. He could feel his resolve crumbling like an earthen dam during a flood. The emotions he had suppressed overwhelmed him. The death of his mother, then his father...he held back so much. Try as he might, he couldn't do it this time.

The tears that he fought to keep at bay trailed down his cheeks. He released Ray's hand as he slowly dropped to his knees. Moving to sit, he slumped back against the casket's stand and for the first time in his life, he let the sorrow swallow him whole.

Francesca's arms encircle him and he leaned into her embrace, holding her tightly to him. Her own tears and sobs of pain joined with his.

They remained that way for some time, not speaking, just taking comfort from one another. When they pulled themselves to their feet, they again held hands as they stood before the casket. Fraser's voice broke the deafening silence, his words echoing in the empty church.

"I've transferred back to Chicago. It was...I wanted to surprise Ray."

Francesca's eyes widened in shock and in some sense horror. This explained the keys to the Consulate and his using the office like it was his own. He hated the city, but he loved his family...her brother. Their friendship had been beyond special. She found herself wishing she were part of the reason he came back as well.

Fraser's voice cracked with his next words.

"I wish I would have told him. At least he would have known I was going to be here. That I would take care of...everyone."

The look he gave her left no doubt as to what he had almost said and she felt sick at herself for being overjoyed. Not while this was happening. Not while Ray lay dead before them.

"He knows. Ray never said anything, but he believed in life after death. I do too."

She hesitated before divulging a long kept secret.

"I talk to my pop ya' know. I mean I really 'talk' to him. I was kinda' hoping Ray would drop by, but he hasn't."

Fraser smiled slightly as he wiped a hand across his cheeks.

"I use to see my father as well. When we captured Muldoon, he said his business was taken care of. He had to leave. Maybe Ray didn't have any unfinished to attend to. Maybe he's...home."

Taking a deep breath, Fraser looked at his watch.

"The service will begin in a few hours. I would like to...I don't want to leave him, but...Ma..."

Francesca gave him a reassuring smile, then nodded down at Ray.

"It's okay. Ray would understand you know. If he were here, he'd be yelling at us both to quit crying and go take care of things at home."

Nodding his head in agreement, Fraser took one last look at Ray's supine form before turning away from the casket. They walked hand in hand down the isle and out of the church, two people trying to come to terms with the senseless death of someone they loved. Two people wondering just how they fit in each other's lives without the person who bound them to one another to begin with.

********

Ray watched from an alcove, the sorrow making his chest ache. How in the hell could he feel pain like this if he were dead? For that matter, should he even be thinking the word hell? Turning to the figure beside him, he couldn't help letting the anger come out in his voice.

"Are you sure I have to sit through this crap and say nothin'? Why can't I talk to them now? You saw how bad they are!"

With a sigh of impatience, Bob Fraser kept his voice calm.

"I've already told you why. They have to grieve. They have to let you go and move on."

"Move on? If I'm gonna' be talkin' to them, then why do they have to go through this?"

The irritation seeped through Bob's voice.

"I don't know why, those are just the rules."

"Well, if you hadn't noticed, I never exactly follow the rules."

Looking up, Ray yelled.

"It's not fair!"

Bob rested a hand gently on Ray's arm, not surprised when Ray pulled sharply away.

"Yank, life isn't fair and neither is death. There are rules to follow and if you don't follow them, then you might not be allowed to stay."

"Whaddaya' mean I might not stay?"

Bob narrowed his eyes, his voice once again irritated.

"Do you think his mother and I wanted to leave him? Don't you think she wanted to stay and get to know her own son? She knew the rules and no matter how much she wanted to ignore them, she didn't. And for that we were 'rewarded'. We can see Ben. You on the other hand have the chance to get to talk to him 'and' your sister mind you. You're lucky you know."

Ray snorted and strode out to the casket holding his body. He yelled as he gestured at the man of flesh and blood that he once had been.

"Lucky?! You call this lucky?!! I'm dead you moron! That's not luck, that's shit!"

Bob motioned for Ray to calm down as he looked uneasily about.

"Will you calm down Yank."

"No I'm not gonna' calm down! This sucks! I'm dead!! What happened to getting married and having kids?! What happened to me growing old?! Jesus Christ, Benny's comin' back here because of me and now I'm gone! He hates it here!"

Bob smiled slightly and the words he spoke next caused Ray's mouth to drop open.

"You're not the only one he came back for you know."

Ray stared at the door way that lead out of the church, then he turned back to Bob. He shook his head vehemently no.

"No. No way did he come back for her."

Bob smiled grew wider.

"My boy came back for her and because of his friendship with you and the other one...your partner...Ray."

Ray frowned.

"Stan. He doesn't want to be called Ray any more."

"Do you blame him? Every time someone says his name, all he'll think of is you and what happened."

Ray snapped.

"Hey, it wasn't his fault!"

"Did I say it was?"

"No...but he thinks he could have stopped it from happenin'. He  
couldn't ya' know."

Bob nodded in agreement.

"I know."

Running a hand over his head, Ray let out a long exhale. He paused for a moment. Did he really breathe or was it some sort of illusion?

"What a stupid way to die."

Bob's expression grew serious.

"Yes, it was an unfortunate incident, but we all die in one manner or another. At least you died doing your duty."

"Yeah, but to be shot by some stupid punk kid..."

"You didn't know he had a gun."

"Yeah and that's what's stupid. Just because he looked all clean cut like Benny, I didn't think he had one. Boy was I surprised when he took it out. Ray...Stan...he must've known somethin' was up 'cause I never saw anyone draw a gun that fast before."

"He didn't know, he was reacting to what was happening. You meant a lot to him."

Ray's eyebrows rose.

"I did? I thought he didn't really like me all that much."

Bob grinned.

"He would have taken that bullet for you."

Ray's eyes widened in surprise.

"No shit!"

Bob's grin was replaced with a stern look of disapproval.

"Could you show some respect?"

"Oh yeah...sorry."

Ray looked around and above him, raising his voice.

"Sorry about that!"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"It's a bad habit."

Bob clicked his tongue.

"Indeed it is."

Rocking on his heels, Ray clasped his hands together.

"So what now? Do we stay here or do we go back to my house?"

"Neither. You don't need to see your family at this time. You may be tempted to break the rules."

Ray grew irritated again.

"So what do we do in the meantime? Float around looking for our wings or what?"

Bob immediately smiled.

"Do you like to fish?"

"Fish?"

"Yes, fish. It's been ages since I've had a fishing partner."

"You're serious? You want me to fish?"

"Well what do you want to do?"

Ray's expression was somber, his voice serious.

"Be alive."

Bob snorted.

"Wouldn't we all. Even if they could bring you back, it's a tad too late, they've already embalmed your body."

Looking down at his 'remains', Ray frowned. There was so much he had still wanted to do in life and now he would never get the chance.

"Okay, let's go fish. It beats staying here and depressing the hell out of myself."

Bob shot him a warning glare and Ray sighed tiredly.

"Okay, I'm sorry I said hell."

He looked up at the ceiling.

"God, I'm sorry I said the H word."

Giving Bob a pointed look he walked past him. Bob followed close behind.

"You'll love where I'm taking you. It's a beautiful spot. Lots of fish."

They walked back into the shadows of the alcove and disappeared.

END


End file.
